Page 55 of Bennett

And in here, with a book in her lap and a new friend beside her, Laurel felt the weight of it all ease, just a little.

She looked down at the ridiculous title and smiled again. Her heart thudded a little faster. Just an idea. Just a maybe. But for the first time, it didn’t feel silly.

With the book now in her lap and Rylee’s steady presence at her side, the weight in her chest didn’t feel quite so heavy.

Eventually, Rylee gave her a nudge. “Come on, book girl. Let’s check in before the guys try to reinforce the window with sarcasm and duct tape.”

Laurel chuckled under her breath and stood, stretching her shoulders as she crossed the room. She tucked the book into the crook of her arm and trailed behind Rylee into the main space.

Her gaze immediately found Bennett, and her heart skipped a beat.

That was new.

She watched him and Matthew working in quiet sync, measuring, positioning, and hammering thick sheets of plywood over the gaping hole where the glass used to be. Each sharp crack of the hammer echoed through the apartment, dull but steady, like the sound of order being restored one nail at a time.

The fresh scent of sawdust and raw wood filled the room, mixing with the faint tang of dust still hanging in the air.

Bennett’s T-shirt clung to his back, showcasing an impressive display of muscles underneath as he straightened and held the panel in place while Matthew secured another corner. His jaw was tight, brow furrowed in focus, and there was something strangely comforting about watching them work. Felt like the world hadn’t spun completely off its axis after all.

Rylee peeled off toward the hallway to grab something from her bag, but Laurel stayed rooted in place.

Bennett glanced up and caught her watching.

His eyes flicked down to the book in her arms, then back to her face, something unreadable shifting behind his gaze. Not a smirk. Not a frown. Just something.

“Window’s almost patched,” he said, his voice low but steady.

Laurel nodded, stepping closer. “Thanks. For everything.”

Matthew looked up from where he was hammering the last nail and flashed a quick smile. “Hey, we can’t let the lady of the hour freeze in her own apartment.”

Laurel arched a brow. “Lady of the hour?”

“Well, you’ve had the most eventful week of anyone in Harland, and it’s only half over,” he said with a wink.

She let out a soft snort. “Great. All I need now is a parade and a commemorative mug.”

“Let’s get through tonight without another window shattering first.” Bennett’s lips twitched but he didn’t look away. “You feeling okay?”

“I’m better.” Her gaze held his, welcoming the reassurance she found in his dark depths. “I’ll be even better once there’s coffee.”

That earned a small chuckle from both men.

Bennett stepped back from the plywood, brushing sawdust off his hands. “We’ll reinforce it tomorrow. This is just temporary until Carter can set the new panels.”

Laurel nodded, suddenly aware of how the warmth in the room had very little to do with the air temperature. She clutched the book a little tighter to her chest and lifted her chin. “Good. Because I really don’t want to read in a draft.”

Bennett walked over to her and glanced at the cover and smiled a rare, genuine smile that made her stomach do a traitorous flip.

“Then we’ll make sure you don’t have to,” he said.

And just like that, a second crack—not in the window this time, but somewhere quieter and deeper—formed in the wall around her heart.

Laurel shifted the book in her hands, the ridiculous title suddenly feeling like a talisman. She wasn’t used to this quiet support, this sense of being looked after without being smothered. It rattled her almost more than the flying concrete.

But it also grounded her.

Bennett turned and moved back to help Matthew at the window, and for a second, she watched him go, wondering what it meant that the man guarding her walls might also be the one gently pulling them down.